


Pragma

by Cyhyr



Series: SylvixWeek2020 [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bedside Vigils, Established Relationship, Gender-Neutral My Unit | Byleth, Injury Recovery, M/M, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), References to Sylvix A+ Support, They/Them Pronouns for My Unit | Byleth, Worried Felix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-24
Updated: 2020-09-24
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26624527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyhyr/pseuds/Cyhyr
Summary: Felix burns through his emotions, trying to stay calm while Sylvain recovers.Staying calm doesn't work.The burning, though; that endures.Written for SylvixWeek2020 Day 3: Injuries/Healing
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Series: SylvixWeek2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1934302
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	Pragma

**Author's Note:**

> "Pragma" is one of the Greek loves, one that is enduring and long-lasting. Maybe their relationship is new, but the love certainly isn't <3
> 
> Enjoy y'all. It gets a *teeny* bit spicy at the end. Not enough to bump up the rating, but enough that I feel the need to mention it.
> 
> Also I don't know why my Felix POV stories seem to never mention Byleth by name, but the professor is unnamed in this.

Sylvain shouldn’t be this still. Bed rest hardly suited any of them, but it suited Sylvain less than most. His hair had gone limp in the day and a half he’d been unconscious; the few once pale freckles on his nose now stood out against dull skin.

Felix figured he didn’t look much better. He couldn’t care less.

He’d carried Sylvain to the infirmary from the stables after riding hard for hours from their last battle. A battle that was supposed to be a clean, quick sweep such that they didn’t even bring a healer. They hadn’t anticipated the trio of mortal savants the enemies had hidden among their ranks, nor the two assassins. Felix had managed to hold the line while their battalions retreated; but while he could take on the savants with little issue, the assassins got the jump on him.

Or, they would have. If Sylvain hadn’t been an _idiot_ and stepped in between Felix and an assassin’s blade. Felix cut them each down swiftly after that, and caught Sylvain as his legs gave out. He had barely given word to Caspar and Ignatz of what happened before he pushed Sylvain back into his saddle, slipped up behind him, and threw the horse into a gallop back to the monastery.

_Damn irresponsible fool._

Felix watched Sylvain’s breath deepen and reached for his wrist. He counted the pulses under Sylvain’s skin and frowned harder. He was falling farther into the kind of sleep one didn’t wake up from. Felix absently stroked his thumb over the soft skin of Sylvain’s inner wrist, schooling himself to remain stoic and quiet while in the infirmary. If Mercedes ever kicked him out, then he would let himself fall apart. Not a moment earlier.

He tipped his chin down against his chest and closed his eyes. He would not sleep, but he needed to rest. He didn’t let go of Sylvain’s wrist; couldn’t, really. The soft pulse against his thumb was one of the few signs that Sylvain was still alive.

* * *

Felix woke hours later, exhausted and cramped, as the professor and Mercedes hovered over Sylvain’s other side. Mercedes was discussing potential poisons that could be blocking her healing magic from properly taking while the professor stood back and hummed thoughtfully.

“Sleep well, Felix?” the professor asked.

“No,” he answered. He sat up and stretched; his neck and back cracked and settled back into place. “What’s this about poison?”

“It’s just a theory Linhardt is exploring to explain why Sylvain isn’t waking up,” Mercedes said. She shook her head with a small smile. “I believe it’s just blood loss. He should wake up today.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Felix asked.

“Then we consider the poison route,” the professor said. “Either way, he’ll receive the best care we can provide, Felix. You don’t need to worry so much.”

Felix crossed his arms and looked away, out the nearby window. “I’m not worried.”

“Of course you’re not,” the professor sighed. “But if you were—”

“I’m _angry_.”

The professor put a hand on Mercedes’s shoulder, whispered something to her, and then she left the room. Felix felt his face heat up as the professor stared expectedly at him. But, just like when he was a student, somehow he couldn’t keep his emotions in check around them when they were so clearly ready to… to _listen_.

“He took a blade for _me_ ,” he hissed. Felix felt his eyes start to tear up and shut them tight. “He’s in here because of me. I should be in that bed, not him. And he does this _all the time_. Against my explicit wishes to keep himself safe!”

“Have you considered that Sylvain may have weighed the outcomes and decided his actions upon which was best?”

Felix scoffed. “Sylvain. Weighing outcomes in battle. Practising tactics.” He shook his head. “He hardly trains as it is, I can’t see it.”

The professor took a seat on the edge of Sylvain’s bed next to Felix. “Sylvain’s one of my best tacticians,” they said. “If he took that hit for you, I’ll trust his judgement. And, I’ll bet you that you wouldn’t be _here_ , Felix.” Their eyes rose pointedly to the window, and they placed a hand on Felix’s shoulder.

Felix’s breath caught as he understood.

“Between us, I’d rather sit a thousand vigils than have to bury any of you.”

“I—”

“Sylvain wears stronger armor into battle than you, Felix,” the professor continued. “Let him protect you when he can. Trust that he knows the risks he’s taking.”

Felix turned his gaze back to the slow rise and fall of Sylvain’s chest. Under the blankets, he had heavy dressing and tight bandages to cover what the magic couldn’t heal. He had stubble across his jaw from being unable to care for himself.

“I can’t… Professor, I _can’t_ just let him get hurt because it’s the best tactical decision,” he said.

They stood up, went over to the window, and looked down at the cemetery. Felix waited while the professor seemed to contemplate their conversation; and then, they gave a single, shallow nod.

“I understand,” they said. When they turned back to him, their eyes were wet but they were smiling. “I’ll do what I can to keep you both safe, then.” They then left the room, leaving Felix alone with Sylvain again.

* * *

As Mercedes predicted, Sylvain woke up later that day. Just after Annette brought up a tray of dinner for Felix, knowing that he wasn’t going to leave to feed himself, Sylvain began to shift in place. Felix had forgotten the food and sent Annette to find Mercedes while he fussed over Sylvain waking up.

No poison. Just significant blood loss and a large enough wound that magic wasn’t able to close it.

Felix helped Mercedes give Sylvain a sponge bath—he _needed_ it—and fed him what Sylvain could stomach of his own dinner. Then Mercedes sent _him_ to bathe and change, promising that she would stay with Sylvain while he was gone. He lingered in the baths and relaxed with the steam. Sylvain was okay; it was his new mantra.

Dragging his razor across his face. Sylvain was okay.

Dressing in clean clothes for the first time in two days. Sylvain was okay.

Pulling his hair back in a new tie. _Sylvain was okay_.

He stepped back into the infirmary later, well after the sun had set. Sylvain was sitting up in bed, propped up with extra pillows, and laughing at something Mercedes had finished telling him. With the lanterns lit in the room, his smile looked more radiant than normal. Felix lingered in the doorway, unwilling to interrupt the moment that put such a look on Sylvain’s face.

But just as he always found himself drawn to Sylvain, Sylvain also seemed to know whenever Felix was nearby. He looked past Mercedes and lifted a hand in greeting. “Felix! You’re looking a lot better.” Sylvain had the audacity to _wink_ , right in front of Mercedes. She hid her giggle behind a hand while Felix fought to keep the flush from showing on his face.

“I’ll leave you boys to catch up,” Mercedes said, excusing herself. She took the empty dinner tray; she must have gotten Sylvain to eat more while he was gone. As she passed, she gave him a soft smile and said, “It’s just you two in the infirmary for the night. Just let him get some more rest at some point, okay?”

Felix lost the fight against the flush and felt his ears burn as he muttered his affirmations to Mercedes and herded her out of the room. He leaned his forehead against the closed door for a few seconds while Sylvain chuckled behind him. When he finally felt he had some kind of control over the blush, he turned around slowly and met Sylvain’s eyes.

Sylvain’s torso was bare, save for those bandages around his chest. Felix stopped fighting against the burning under his skin—embarrassment, heat, anger, _fuck it_. He crossed the room in a few strong strides and sat beside Sylvain, took his face in hand, and kissed him _hard_. With his other hand he felt out Sylvain’s chest; scars of which he knew the exact shade, the heaving breaths his ribs expanded to take in, the strong beat his heart pulsed. All the while he devoured Sylvain and breathed life into him.

And Sylvain melted under him, moaning softly, reaching for Felix, too. Sylvain’s long fingers carded through his hair, pulled at his tie until it all came down in a curtain of dark threads around them. Once that objective had been achieved, Sylvain turned to nudging Felix into climbing into his lap, one hand around Felix’s back and the other pulling at his thigh.

He nearly did it, too; but then the burn turned from _heat_ to _anger_ and Felix remembered why he had sat at this _fool’s_ bedside. He pulled away from the kiss with a final soft bite to Sylvain’s lower lip. “What the _fuck_ was that stunt you pulled???”

“Felix,” Sylvain groaned, “Can’t you yell at me _after_ we make wonderful, life-affirming love?”

“I told you to stop protecting me!”

“And I told you, it doesn’t matter as long as you’re safe.” He tried to lean in for another kiss, but Felix sat back, stunned. “Fe—?”

“I thought… You were fooling around that day.” Felix took his hands back and lay them on his lap; frowned at them. “You said you thought it was _funny_ ,” he muttered. It _hadn’t_ been funny, not at all, but Felix thought they’d gotten past this. And what about their promise—did that mean nothing to Sylvain, as long as he successfully martyred himself for Felix of all people?

“Goddess, Felix,” Sylvain breathed. He cupped Felix’s face, turned his chin up to look back at him. “I might have been joking with you about how badly I’d been hurt that day, but I have _never_ joked, lied, or made fun of how I feel about you.” Felix stayed still, let Sylvain kiss his cheek, his nose, his brow. “But your safety is _paramount_ , Felix. I will always put you first.”

“You should put the success of the battle first,” Felix snapped.

“I _can’t_. Not if it puts you at risk.”

“I’m capable—”

“And I’m in love with you,” Sylvain shrugged. “I can’t help it any more than the sun can help rising in the morning. I know you can handle yourself, but if I—”

“ _Stop._ ”

The room echoed with quiet. Sylvain slowly rubbed Felix’s back while Felix hid his face in his hands. His shoulders shook, a few frustrated tears slipped by his fingers. Felix let Sylvain tug him onto the bed, against his chest; he let his eyes close while Sylvain pet his hair.

Eventually, Sylvain whispered into his hair, “I’m sorry, Felix.”

“Don’t,” Felix muttered. He buried his face in Sylvain’s shoulder. “At this point, it’s more like you’re apologising for loving me.”

Sylvain laughed. He nudged his shoulder to pick Felix’s face up, brushed their noses together. “I don’t get how you can be more romantic than me with so much less experience,” he smiled.

“You swore yourself off of love once,” Felix said. He kissed Sylvain sweetly. “I fell hard and then never stopped falling. You might have more experience with relationships, but between the two of us I have you beat in time spent in love.”

“You.” Sylvain kissed him back. “Are.” _Kiss._ “A.” _Kiss._ “Secret.” _Kiss—Kiss—Kiss._ “Sap.”

“And if you ever want to take me to bed again, it’ll stay a secret,” Felix warned him.

“So we _can_ make wonderful, life-affirming love right now?”

Felix pretended to think about it for a moment, even started to stand up and walk away; Sylvain’s arms darted out and encircled his hips and dragged him back onto the bed. Felix let Sylvain “convince” him for a bit, tipping his head to the side so Sylvain could bite and lick at Felix’s neck and coax purring moans from his throat. And then, he turned around in place, tugged a handful of Sylvain’s hair to get him to stop the assault on his neck.

“It’s hard to make love with my pants on,” Felix muttered.

“Then let me take them off,” Sylvain offered.

“A condition.”

Sylvain groaned. “Anything, Felix.”

“Sit the next battle out.”

“Done. Get over here and let me touch you.”

Felix narrowed his eyes. “It’s that easy?”

Sylvain shrugged. “Mercedes already told me I wouldn’t be combat-ready for another week or so. You’ll be deployed before then.”

“That’s not—” Felix sighed.

“What you meant, I’m sure. But it _does_ satisfy your condition, therefore—wonderful, life-affirming love-making. Get your sweet ass over here.”

Felix _burned_. But it was worth it.


End file.
